


Chain of Command

by amaradangeli



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:14:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: She'd purposely disobeyed an order.





	Chain of Command

**Author's Note:**

> Some of you have seen this. But for the rest of you, it's something new!

He was very quiet as they turned their weapons over to the SFs. He didn't look at her as he stalked past her towards the locker rooms. Dread settled in her stomach. She knew she'd done wrong.

She'd purposely disobeyed an order. She had a very short history of even questioning his orders. But this time she'd flat out done what she thought was right. And as it turned out, her instincts had been good. Which probably had a lot to do with why he was mad. Not that she was right, but that he had been wrong. He'd nearly gotten the whole team killed because he didn't take her word for the science of the thing. And then she'd turned from him and done what she knew would allow them all to walk away.

So yes, he was mad. But probably only a little bit that she'd disobeyed him. Still, she was pretty sure that the insubordination was going to come back to haunt her. Just as his near miss was going to haunt him.

She ducked into the women's locker room and stripped off her uniform. She had the room to herself, which was nice. She wasn't feeling up to small talk, what with the heaviness in the pit of her stomach. She might have saved lives but she'd strained her relationship with her CO.

She padded into the showers and turned the water on as hot as she could stand. So hot that her skin pinked up immediately upon stepping under the spray. She closed her eyes and let the water soothe her, let the heat relax the tension she was carrying around.

She dressed in her civilian clothes when she was done. The briefing wasn't until early the next day and it was late enough. She was going to go home.

She'd barely been home for a half hour when the doorbell rang shrilly, bringing her up off the couch with a start. She'd been meaning to change it out for something less obtrusive, but there never seemed to be the time. She looked at the clock on her way by. It was slightly past twenty-hundred and it was strange for her doorbell to ring at that time of the night, even if it wasn't, technically, late.

She looked down at her feet, bare in deference to being home and thought, idly, how strange and revealing it felt to be answering the door with naked feet. She pulled open the door without checking the peephole and heard her father's voice admonishing her even as she did so. But she figured, if it were someone here to do her harm, they'd be in for a surprise when they discovered she wasn't your average housewife.

On her porch, oddly, stood a very dark, angry looking Jack O'Neill. She wasn't surprised by the look on his face, but by his presence entirely. He stepped forward and into the house, slipping past her without an invitation. The frisson of heat that slammed through her body at just the brush of his shoulder against hers wasn't new, but the intensity rocked her back onto her heels and made her smother a gasp.

Just inside her entryway he turned to face her. She closed the door and turned around, pressing her back against the solid wood. The colonel stood there, vibrating with tension. She couldn't help sweeping her eyes over his body, from the top of his head to his toes and then back up again. His eyes were narrowed when she directed her gaze there once more. Had he noticed her once-over? What did he think it meant?

What _did_ it mean?

For long moments they just stood there, looking at one another. Finally, when it was clear he wasn't going to, she started. "Sir?"

His hands clenched by his thighs. "Today, you disobeyed a direct order."

She lifted her chin defiantly, "Yes, sir."

"That's insubordination, Carter."

"Yes, sir. But--"

"No," he cut her off harshly. "You may have been right this time, but what happens next time you disagree? Are you going to assume you know better and disrespect me again?"

She bit the inside of her cheek when tears sprang to her eyes. She'd never, ever, disrespected a commanding officer. And to hear him state so clearly how he perceived what she'd done – largely unnecessarily as she could agree it was exactly what she'd done – felt like a hit to the solar plexus. He knew what such an accusation would mean to her. He knew her well enough, after nearly five years of service together, to know exactly how to cut her down to size.

"I thought you were better than that. I thought I knew you, could count on you."

She flushed. Because he _did_ know her. And he _could_ count on her. But hearing him doubt that made her stomach roil. "Sir, I... it wasn't about not respecting you. It wasn't that I thought you were wrong, just that I knew I was right."

"That's a meaningless distinction."

"I disagree."

"Guess it's the day for it," he said darkly.

She canted her head to the side, curious. "What are you doing here, sir?"

He shifted his weight back onto his heels, seemed to settle in, and said, his voice rough, his tone angry, "I think we need to rebalance things. I think you need to be reminded that I'm your commanding officer."

She was immediately contrite. If he honestly felt like he needed to tell her he was her CO, then she really must have rocked his faith in her. She dropped her eyes, "Yes, sir."

He took two large strides forward, his body crowding hers against the door. She was immediately alert, aware of him so close, her body tingling with the unusual proximity. "Look at me."

She had to tip her head back against the door to meet his eyes. They were flashing, slitted, and intense.

" _I_ give the orders."

She nodded, swallowed, blinked, then said, "Yes, sir," and tried not to be too aware of the way that his words caused parts of her to clench.

"And you follow them. Whether you agree with them or not."

"Yes, sir."

"I will accept your council, but the decisions are mine."

"Sir, I--"

He grasped her chin, his fingers hot against her jaw, seemed momentarily unsure, and then his mouth was crashing down on hers. Her first instinct was no, but it was followed quickly by her body melting against the door, her mouth opening for him, and her tongue seeking his out and finding it already _there_ and ready, hot and insistent. Her brain kept saying no, not because she didn't want this, but because she wasn't supposed to have it. And if he was so intent on delineating their relationship, wasn't this completely out of line?

Not that the thought stopped her from kissing him, even for a moment. Heat suffused her body. She couldn't help the sound that issued from her throat, as it had originated at the core of her. He pulled back abruptly, as if the sound had reminded him that he shouldn't be doing what he was doing. But in the moment she thought he was going to come to his senses, as her body started to wilt with disappointment, his hands filtered through her hair. He fisted the short strands and yanked her head back, exposing her throat. She felt dually vulnerable and incredibly aroused.

He claimed her mouth once more, plundering the moist cavern with his tongue, crushing her lips against her teeth, making the kiss sharp, heavy and drugging. She reached up and grasped his forearms for support as her knees were becoming less and less reliable as it dragged on. His hands tightened in her hair and he ripped her away from his lips. His mouth was instantly on the cords of her neck applying pressure with his teeth. Not quite painful, but close.

He maneuvered his lower body and insinuated a thigh between her legs. She sagged down on it, grateful for the support, but was instantly electrified by the pressure on the throbbing place at the apex of her thighs. She gasped and then moaned. He ripped his mouth from her neck and his eyes burned into hers. He looked so dark and dangerous as he pressed his thigh up into her even harder.

"What?" She sighed the word, unsure of what was happening or why.

He didn't answer. Instead, one hand released her hair and fell to the hem of her shirt. He pushed it up, over her breasts, exposing her heated skin to the cool, conditioned air. Roughly, he covered a breast, cupping his hand around it, and squeezed. He unclenched the fingers in her hair and her head fell back into his hand. His thumb caught her beaded nipple; her hips bucked on his thigh. Pulling her head back up into position, he kissed her again, ravaging her mouth.

She could feel the way he was pouring his anger – and his failure – into her. This wasn't about her, it wasn't about the intimacy, even. It was about his reassertion of control. He wasn't giving her pleasure. He was commanding it. Of course, that only served to turn her on further. He had no way of knowing that her most guarded fantasy was to give over to him completely, to surrender to him, to let him have his way with her, to let him use her and leave her wasted and sated. No, he had no way of knowing that, and yet, innately that was what he was giving her, by degrees.

The simple fact that he was touching her for his pleasure – the way he handled her breasts – never mind the relief he offered by insinuating his thigh between hers. She got the distinct feeling that he did that because he liked the feeling of her hot and damp against him. Surely, he could feel her heat, at least, through his khaki pants. She had no doubt that soon enough he’d be aware of her wetness as well.

His hands left her head and breast and he slid them down over the skin of her ribs to her waist. His fingers tucked between her body and the waistband of her jeans and he reached behind her to plunge his hands into her pants and took two handfuls of her ass. He squeezed her flesh as he pulled her down harder onto his thigh. She mewled her pleasure into his mouth.

She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, afraid that if she touched him she’d break whatever spell he was under that was allowing this to happen. But her palms itched for him. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she linked her fingers behind his head, letting her hands span his neck. His skin was searing. But her touch, rather than bring him to his senses, seemed to spur him on.

His lips were relentless. She couldn’t believe they’d been kissing for so long. Didn’t realize how much it would factor into his pleasure. He could have gone straight for claiming her, reasserting the chain of command, but instead there was this foreplay, even if it was just this side of hostile, the way he worked her over.

With his hands still inside her pants, he pulled her hips forward, snugging them up against his own. She became acutely aware of his arousal. She wasn’t sure if it was anger manifesting as arousal or if his arousal was igniting his anger. What was happening felt nothing like the tender feelings that existed between them. She knew, at this moment, those feelings had been completely backburnered for the more immediate assertion of his place in the hierarchy. He needed to know he was in control, that she not only allowed it but accepted it as fact.

In many ways, she did accept it. She would never be completely subservient to him, but he wouldn’t want that anyway. But in certain matters she could, and _would_ , submit. Under his command was one. In his bed was the other. Until this very moment, though, he hadn’t known that about her. She wasn’t even sure he completely understood it yet. He was asserting his authority but she’d already surrendered to it.

He yanked his mouth away from hers and sucked in deep breaths, like he’d been holding out for too long. His eyes were dark and dangerous, his mouth tight yet swollen. She licked her lips and lowered her eyes, caressed the back of his head gently, allowing him the time and space to catch his breath, encouraging it. Her hips were not moving against the thigh he had pressed against her intimately. She merely stood there in his hold, trusting him to support her pleasure-saturated body.

Things were still and quiet for a moment, save for their harsh breathing. And then, like he’d remembered his ire, his voice rumbled low in his chest, a primal sort of sound. He slammed her back against the door, his hands suddenly yanking at the cups of her bra, exposing her breasts to his hungry eyes. He looked his fill then pinched at a nipple, harder than she’d have done herself, but it was good, so good. She sounded her pleasure, her voice rasping and high.

His hands left her body but she could feel them brushing her belly. He pinned her with his gaze and she didn’t dare look away, not with the way he was compelling her to look. In the next instant he grabbed her hand and dragged it forward. She felt the hot steel of his cock against the back of her fingers. He shaped her hand around his shaft, squeezed and then directed her movements until she was stroking him just the way he liked.

He groaned when she brushed a thumb over his sensitive head. She felt his slick, silky fluid smear between their skin. She licked her lips, he bucked into her hand.

Then he was pushing her down, onto her knees, in front of him. It was an order she wasn’t going to refuse. She might know better in this case, too, but there was nothing that was going to stop her from taking him into her mouth and burying her nose against his skin.

He was hot and heavy against her tongue, his essence sharp and salty on her taste buds. She used every skill she’d picked up over the last near-twenty years to force him towards the precipice of pleasure.

Just when she thought he intended for her to finish him this way, that he’d made his point, he was pulling her to her feet. He kissed her again, his tongue in her mouth, like he was cataloging his taste in concert with hers.

Again, she felt his hands between them, but this time it was her own button that was popped and her pants being forced down. She could feel his cock, slick with saliva and precum, against her thigh. His fingers hooked into her underwear and pushed them down, too. He forced his hand between her thighs and dragged his fingers between her lips, through her wetness.

Her heart exploded in her chest. He was angry, hurt, loathing himself and maybe her a little too, but when presented with the chance to claim her body, his first instinct, even under those circumstances, was to test her readiness. She shifted her weight until her pants were around her ankles and then stepped one foot out of the fabric and lifted that leg up. Inviting him to take her.

He hooked her thigh with his forearm and opened her in a way she’d have been unable to do herself. And then, without further preamble, he slid home. The angle and his size converged and she could feel him stretch her as he filled her completely. She exhaled a ragged breath and let her head fall back against the door.

He withdrew from her gently, almost reverently. He trailed his wet fingers down her jaw, down her neck. He curled his fingers loosely around her, collaring her more for aesthetics than for control. And then he slammed back into her. Her body rocked back against the door and she couldn’t help the surprised sound she made or the way the breath whooshed out of her lungs.

His pace was relentless and designed for his pleasure rather than hers. But knowing she was being used, that her body was bringing him pleasure, was enough to ratchet up the pleasure that was building between her legs.

She could feel the sloppiness between them, allowing his smooth and speedy passage. She hated herself for being so obviously aroused, for telling him so clearly that he was ticking every one of her boxes. She felt the tendrils of satisfaction begin curling around her clit. His rhythm began to falter and he started vocalizing the intensity of his pleasure with soft, masculine grunts. His angle forced his body to press into her just right. The speed and intensity of his thrusts ignited the sparks inside of her.

She cried out as she felt the relief of the culmination of his ministrations surge through her body. Tightening her before the pleasure exploded. Her walls clenched around him, relishing the fullness she felt.

With a sudden rush of breath he came, his hips flexing against hers. As he came inside her she thought not about consequences but of her place in relation to this man. About what had happened, and what might happen in the future. About what would have to wait and about how to move beyond when he now knew her secrets and she knew more about the darker parts of him.

As he slipped out of her body he made one final note. He ran his fingers between her legs again, collected their mixed fluids and drew them up to her lips. She opened for him. A light brightened in his eyes, as if he was finally forgiving her for what she’d done. As she licked his fingers clean she let her eyes search his.

When he kissed her again it was almost gentle and yet still, somehow, authoritative. He asserted himself with the control of the kiss even as she attempted to pull him into something more, something that might drive them to a second round, something that might end in her bed instead of her foyer.

As they pulled up their pants, he didn’t apologize. He didn’t justify. He simply pinned her with a heavy gaze.

Fully dressed once more he looked at her, said softly and yet with steel running through it, “Today, you disobeyed a direct order.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said it but it was the most powerful time he’d said it. “Yes, sir.”

“You forced me to have to reaffirm the chain of command.”

“Yes, sir.”

As if he knew she’d fret over it later he said, “This was wrong, and that’s on me.”

They didn’t have to acknowledge how much it had turned her on. She nodded. As he moved her so he could step out the door she stopped him with her hand on his arm. “I’m not sorry for today. But I am sorry that you don’t trust me anymore.”

“Carter,” he said, a small smile playing around his lips, “I trust you. Like I’ve never trusted anyone before. This…” He leaned in and kissed her quickly. “I trust you.”

The anger and ire were gone. In their place stood the man she’d fallen in love with. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth to speak the words that would make this her fault as much as his. But he shook his head and stepped out into the warm night air closing the door softly behind him.

 


End file.
